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chasmdivine · 2 months ago

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high fantasy x romance x found family x lgbtqia+

Twine demo (coming mid summer 2025) | itch.io page | Author kofi

Your family were oracles, prophets, to the deity, Rhuyen, from the dawn of mortal life long before civilization and the founding of the nation, Dalethyr and it’s prominent capital, Valesia. For centuries after, your ancestors sat upon the royal dais, providing divine guidance to numerous Thaerdazan monarchs. You are next in line to be Oracle.

A sprawling, ancestral estate in the High Garden, untold wealth, and a name that carried weight—it was all your grandmother’s. Until, on the heels of King Zerhan’s coronation and the historic concord between Dalethyr and Bhalerun, she foretold of the Crown’s downfall in an inferno of magic and smoke. Infuriated by her betrayal of his crown, she and her son were banished from the city, and the empire expanded on.

Fifty-two years later

In the year 731 v, all you know is the Chasm, the massive schism in the plains outside the city where people spit out by Valesia’s justice system, the destitute, and those shunned by the upper class—namely, your family.

Little has changed in the upper city, once famed for its forward-thinking ideals and strict, magical schools, but in the under city, pressure has formed community and bonds not even the Crown or its guards can break.

Tension has been steadily building between the two cities, and recent events have brought it to a violent boil. You may not have picked a side in the conflict, but your god has given one. The Oracle says it’s time, fate and their consequences are longer overdue. Will you hasten the empire’s fall, or try to change the outcome?

This is an active wip. Things such as names or ideas may change.

Warnings: (18+) for descriptions of violence, blood, death, and gore; drug and alcohol use, mention, and abuse; explicit language; a corrupt government; and more. Send an ask if you would like more or specific information related to the content warnings.

Customize the main character: pronouns, identity, physical appearance, and clothing

The main character has had a great many experiences living in the under city. Decide how it’s shaped their personality, and how they will react in the present and future.

Choose from four different backgrounds: merchant, smith, healer, or a runner for the Vultures.

Explore Valesia’s Upper City, but watch where you walk, snakes don’t make for good friends, and the Chasm—the home you know like the back of your hand. Well, you thought you did.

Main Character: resident of the Chasm, grandchild of the current Oracle of Rhuyen

Age: 26

Yaretzi (she/her): third year student in the mage academy, whose presence in the Chasm draws lingering eyes from both above and below

Age: 24 Physical description: hip-length black curly hair, light brown skin with warm undertones, golden-brown eyes, medium build with no muscle definition, 5'4", losing most of the vision in her right eye barely put a hitch in this dedicated student's step Romance option | pansexual | can be romanced by MCs of any gender Portrait | Full body

Admase (he/him) / Asmeret (she/her): an old friend (or romance) who is captaining a Bhalish merchant ship quite well for someone who is supposed to be dead

Age: 26 Physical description: shoulder-blade length black locs often pushed back with a leather or gold band, deep brown skin with warm undertones, dark brown eyes, large, well-muscled build, 6'2", their old forearm prosthetic familiar to you has been replaced by a new one of unfamiliar design Romance option | panromantic demisexual | can be romanced by MCs of any gender Portrait | Full body

Tejas (they/them): proclaimed an outlaw by the Crown, declared ruler of both sides of the Chasm by its inhabitants

Age: 28 Physical description: short, light brown hair, brown skin with warm undertones, dark grey eyes, slender, well-muscled build, 6’0”, despite missing fingers on their right hand they are highly capable of signing rapidly with the other Romance option | demiromantic pansexual | a romance path for MCs of any gender will be unlocked after reaching a certain friendship level Portrait | Full body

Iliyas (he/they): Bhalish emissary in the Valesian court, a soul out of place in the pit of vipers

Age: 29 Physical description: shoulder-length, black (nearly violet in some lighting) hair shorn around the ears, fair skin with olive undertones, light brown eyes, slender, narrow build with very slight muscle tone, 5’10”, he uses a well-crafted cane as a mobility aid Romance option | panromantic asexual | can be romanced by MCs of any gender Portrait | Full body

Two more ROs are planned:

A femme nonbinary (asexual lesbian) who can be romanced by nonbinary or female MCs

An allosexual man who can be romanced by male MCs

Drawing someone? Here’s a palette for the RO’s.

Nysa (she/they): Oracle of Rhuyen, outcast of the Upper City and proud of it

Age: 74

King Zerhan Thaerdazan (he/him): king of Dalethyr

Age: 70

#chasmdivine #chasmdivine if #interactive fiction #interactive story

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aesethewitch · 6 months ago

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Loopholes

Thinking about general versus specific spells and loopholes in magic today…

I find that general spells are often less effective than spells that are really specific. Or, at least, a general spell’s effects are more difficult to measure than a spell with specific instructions and expectations.

Leaving spells general also leaves room for loopholes. Now, depending on the paradigm you’re operating from, loopholes may not be an issue. But they can cause unexpected and sometimes unwanted side effects, or cause the primary desired outcome to manifest in a way that isn’t ideal.

For another example, consider if you cast a spell for someone to take a romantic interest in you with no specifications on the type of person you’re looking for. That coworker you don’t particularly like but who already thinks you’re neat is likelier to form romantic feelings for you than, say, the unattainable hot guy whose name you don’t know and with whom your only conversation is “Would you like that small, medium, or large?”

This, in my paradigm, is because those connections either already exist or they’re stronger. You know that coworker better, they know you better, and you have more ties than the hot barista you see once every three weeks.

If you want the barista’s attention and not the coworker’s, it’s important to specify that — to close the loophole.

I always think about connections working against me, too, when I’m doing magic. If a person who hates me is the primary interviewer at a company I’m interested in, I have to account for their rancid opinion if I want to get that job. I have to do extra work to either get around, rewrite, or disconnect the existing connection in order to increase the likelihood of a favorable outcome.

My partner and I are currently looking at buying a house (yay!). Our area is pretty expensive, and very affordable homes tend to be… well, to put it kindly… shitholes.

Those conditions (those connections) are strongly ingrained into the environment. I can’t single-handedly change the economy, though I wish I could. And I can’t force a house to spontaneously appear between two existing houses, even though that neighborhood is absolutely perfect and I desperately want to live there. There isn’t room, and that isn’t physically possible.

Well, alright, I suppose I could do a spell to convince both owners to chop up their parcels into smaller pieces for sale, do another spell to make the parcels affordable, and then another spell for someone to build an affordable house on the land. But that’d be a teeny little house and yard! It might work better in a location with bigger parcels and more space between houses, but this is a cute little rural-type suburb, not the country roads further out of town. As it is in this location we’re looking at, to make it viable for our wants and needs would be physically impossible; we’d be compromising too much one way or another, and it wouldn’t be worthwhile!

But I can do spells for houses with specific qualities to come onto the market, and I can include my particular price range! I can do magic to encourage the bank to give us a better deal on our pre-approval! I can do a spell to urge sellers to drop their prices or accept an offer that’s under their asking price but within our budget!

It’s a matter of identifying what I want and what might stand in the way. It’s also about considering the things I’m leaving unsaid, or that could be taken in multiple ways. Like, if I say I want a basement, and we find a house that’s perfect, fitting all our desired qualities!

…except that basement floods several times a year, and that’s why it’s unfinished, so it’s wasted space that requires expensive yearly upkeep or a massive, pricey overhaul to prevent for the future. That would be a hell of a loophole to discover. Closing as many loopholes as possible can help a spell produce a result that’s exactly (or close to exactly) what I expect it to be with as few unpleasant side effects as possible.

Another method I’ve seen, which I think comes from @windvexer, is the “if/then” method of creating conditions within a spell. I find it’s really useful for closing loopholes, since it keeps a spell from deviating from your instructions or fizzling out when it can’t fulfill its purpose as written.

The method looks like this in practice:

“This spell is a money spell. Its purpose is to bring $500 in tarot commissions to me by the end of April.

“If April is not possible, then by the end of June.

“If $500 is not possible, then no less than $300.

“If not by tarot commissions, then this money will come to me via tips and subscriptions.

“If not by tips and subscriptions, then this money will come to me via other types of contract work.

“If any final condition (end of June, no less than $300, contract work) is not possible, I will receive a sign in the form of three cardinals sitting on the hood of my car, and the spell will end.”

Thus, the loopholes I’m worried about are closed, and I have a condition set to end the spell and send me a sign if it isn’t possible. It’s a simple but very effective method that I’ve found really useful for getting super specific in my spellwork!

Anyways, point is, loopholes matter because connections matter and therefore the space between those connections matter. If one of my spells fails or produces an unexpected result, loopholes are the first things I look for. What happened, and could I have prevented it? How so? Then note it down, and do the next spell.

#aese speaks #advwitchblr #witchblr #witchcraft #spellwork

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cutiepieloves131 · 8 months ago

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝔂 𝓞𝓯 𝓡𝓸𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓲

Marilyn Monroe 🌹 Rohini Sun

Rohinis are known to be conventionally attractive, their beauty is timeless like a rose as they have everlastingly youthful and soft visuals since Rohini is known as the younger wife of the 26 nakshatras. They were the beauty standard of the 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's, and 60's, a lot of people have a obsession and desire to covet their beauty and so desperately want to be them and live their lifestyle along with wearing things that they wore and possessing everything they own, a prime example is Marilyn Monroe herself. Rohini women eyes are medium to large but wide-set, very hypnotizing and sparkling acting as a magnetic factor to those that's mesmerized by looking into their eyes, and a short boxy nose.

Hwasa 🌹 Rohini Moon

The cheeks are medium to large and they naturally have rosy cheeks, their lips are plump and fleshy having a pink touch to it, Rohini individuals beauty is doll-like and perfected in every way possible. Their face and skin glow beautifully especially the cheeks, nose, lips, and mostly the eyes reminiscent of the Moon itself (The same applies to Hasta, Shravana, and Pushya as they also have moon influence too).

Kandyse Mcclure 🌹 Rohini Ascendant

I noticed that their face shape tend to be round, square, or a rounded square due to the planetery influences which is Venus and Moon two watery, feminine, and beautiful planets. Venus is the planet of beauty and pleasure and the Moon is the planet of emotions and intuition so with these two planets ruling Rohini creates a mix of extreme beauty to the face, body, personality, and aura overall. As I said before in a previous post the Moon ranked high as a top beauty indicator in women while Venus the #1 indicator of beauty in men and women because its association with physical beauty. A few words to describe the beauty and essence of Rohini is captivating, alluring, and enticing.

Shontellia 🌹 Rohini Sun

In vedic text Rohini is always reffered as being gorgeous and sensual, don't forget Rohini was known to be the most beautiful wife which led to her being chosen and highly favored. They exude an aura of sensuality and magnetism effortlessly easily gaining the attention and favor of almost everyone around them, it's impossible to resist their charmingness, charisma, and playful mannerisms. Rohini is a incredibly seductive nakshatra just like Ashlesha, they're both nakshatras that rule over seduction but Rohinis got it by nature, the real irresistible force of nature.

Angelina Jolie 🌹 Rohini Sun

The jawline is greatly defined, a little widened, and sharp their chin is flat or slightly pointed, too many they have the ideal facial features and why I said this is because everyone wants to forever maintain and keep their youthfulness even going as far to have botox at the ages of 18-25 and specially older to stop the aging process, even though rounded features aren't appreciated as much in the current beauty standard as it was back then, sooner or later you'll see a lot people do whatever it is possible to achieve their youthful beauty back but Rohini men and women won't have too cause they age like fine wine and continue to stay looking young despite how old they are.

Rose McGowan 🌹 Rohini Ascendant

Rohini women eyebrows are thin and rounded, typically well sculpted on their faces with a small forehead. Moles are prominent on their faces too, from what I've seen it's mostly a beauty mark close to the mouth, on the cheeks, forehead, underneath the nose, and chin. Their smiles are tremendously enchanting and sweet, and they possess mass sex appeal. Sex symbols and some of the sexiest women around the world have prominence in this nakshatra, but overall Rohini is the true epitome of beauty.

#rohini #rohini nakshatra #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #nakshatras #vedic beauty #vedic astro observations

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teh-tj · 9 months ago

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Greenbelt Maryland. Or, how America almost solved housing only to abandon it.

**I AM NOT AN EXPERT! I AM JUST AN ENTHUSIST! DO NOT TREAT MY OPINIONS/SPECULATION AS EDUCATION!**

During the Depression America faced a housing crisis that rhymes with but differs from our own. It’s different in that there wasn’t a supply issue, there were loads of houses in very desirable areas, but they were still unaffordable as people’s incomes collapsed causing a deflationary spiral. While the housing supply subtly grew and succeeded demand, people simply couldn’t pay the meager rents and mortgages. Herbert Hoover failed to manage the Depression, while his inaction is greatly exaggerated, his policy of boosting the economy with works projects and protecting banks from runs failed and the depression only got more pronounced in his term. In comes Franklin Roosevelt, a progressive liberal much like his distant and popular cousin/uncle-in-law Teddy. Franklin’s plan was to create a large safety net for people to be able to be economically viable even if they’re otherwise poor. These reforms are called the New Deal and they did many controversial things like giving disabled and retired people welfare, giving farmers conditioned subsidies to manipulate the price of food, a works program to build/rebuild vital infrastructure, etc. One of these programs was the USHA (a predecessor of America’s HUD), an agency created to build and maintain public housing projects with the goal of creating neighborhoods with artificially affordable rents so people who work low-wage jobs or rely on welfare can be housed.

In this spirit, the agency started experimenting with new and hopefully efficient housing blueprints and layouts. If you ever see very large apartment towers or antiquated brick low-rise townhouses in America, they might be these. The USHA bought land in many large and medium-sized cities to build “house-in-park” style apartments, which is what they sound like. Putting apartment buildings inside green spaces so residents can be surrounded by greenery and ideally peacefully coexist. Three entire towns were built with these ideas outside three medium-sized cities that were hit hard by the depression; Greenbelt outside DC, Greenhills outside Cincinnati, and Greendale outside Milwaukee. The idea was to move people out of these crowded cities into these more sustainable and idyllic towns. There were many catches though, the USHA planned for these towns to be all-white, they used to inspect the houses for cleanliness, they required residents to be employed or on Social Security (which basically meant retired or disabled), they also had an income limit and if your income exceeded that limit you were given a two-month eviction notice, and you were expected to attend town meetings at least monthly. While the towns didn’t have religious requirements they did only build protestant churches. Which is an example of discrimination by omission. While a Catholic, Jew, Muslim, etc could in theory move into town they also couldn’t go to a Catholic church, synagogue, or Islamic center without having to extensively travel. Things planned communities leave out might indicate what kind of people planned communities want to leave out. Basically, the whole thing was an experiment in moving Americans into small direct-democracy suburbs as opposed to the then-current system of crowded cities and isolated farm/mine towns. This type of design wasn’t without precedent, there were famously company towns like Gary and Pullman which both existed outside Chicago. But those lacked the autonomy and democracy some USHA apparatchiks desired.

The green cities were a series of low-rise apartments housing over a hundred people each, they were short walks from a parking lot and roads, and walking paths directly and conveniently led residents to the town center which had amenities and a shopping district. Greenbelt in particular is famous for its art deco shopping complex, basically an early mall where business owners would open stores for the townspeople. These businesses were stuck being small, given the income requirements, but it was encouraged for locals to open a business to prove their entrepreneurial spirit. Because city affairs were elected at town meetings the city was able to pull resources to eventually build their own amenities the USHA didn’t originally plan for like a public swimming pool or better negotiated garbage collection.

These three cities were regarded as a success by the USHA until World War II happened and suddenly they showed flaws given the shift in focus. These towns housed poor people who barely if at all could afford a car, so semi-isolated towns outside the city became redundant and pointless. The USHA also had to keep raising the income requirement since the war saw a spike in well-paying jobs which made the town unsustainable otherwise. During the war and subsequent welfare programs to help veterans, these green cities became de facto retirement and single-mother communities for a few years as most able-bodied men were drafted or volunteered. Eventually, the USDA would make the towns independent, after the war they raised the income limit yet again and slowly the towns repopulated. As cars became more common and suburbanization became a wider trend these towns would be less noticeably burdensome and were eventually interpreted as just three out of hundreds of small suburban towns that grew out of major cities. They were still all-white and the town maintained cleanliness requirements; after all they lived in apartments it just takes one guy’s stink-ass clogged toilet to ruin everyone’s day.

By the 1950’s these towns were fully independent. Greendale and Greenhills voted to privatize their homes and get rid of the income limit all together so the towns can become more normal. Greenhills, Ohio still has many of these USHA-era houses and apartments, all owned by a series of corporations and private owners. Greendale, Wisconsin property owners have demolished most of these old houses and restructured their town government so most traces of its founding are lost. But Greenbelt, Maryland still maintains a lot of its structure to this day. Greenbelt has privatized some land and buildings, but most of the original USHA apartments are owned by the Greenbelt Homes, Inc cooperative which gives residents co-ownership of the building they live in and their payments mostly go to maintenance. Because Greenbelt was collectively owned the House Un-American Activities Committee would blacklist and put on trial most of Greenbelt’s residents and officials. Though they didn’t find much evidence of communist influence, the town was a target of the red scare by the DMV area, residents were discriminated, blacklisted, and pressured into selling their assets. While Greenbelt did commodify some of the town, the still existing co-ownership shows the town’s democratic initiative to maintain its heritage. The green cities desegregated in the 50’s and 60’s depending on state law, Greenbelt was the last to desegregate under the Civil Rights Act of 1964, while discrimination persisted for years by the 1980’s the town would become half non-white, today the town is 47% black and 10% Asian.

Though these towns largely integrated with a privatized and suburbanized America, they do stand as a memorial to an idea of American urbanism that died. They were designed for walkability and were planned to be more democratic and egalitarian towns, with the conditions that came with segregation and government oversight. You can’t ignore the strict standards and racism in their history, but you can say that about many towns. How do you think America would be different if more cities had green suburbs that were more interconnected and designed for community gatherings?

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ghostofhyuck · 1 year ago

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𝗗𝗲𝗷𝗮 𝗩𝘂 ✧₊⁺

Summary: It’s been months since you two broke up and Jeno got a new girl now. She’s pretty, nice, and exactly his ideal type. And yet, the ghost of you still lingers, maybe because Jeno brings her to the places you two used to go.

Deja vu? Maybe. Or it’s just Jeno’s not over you.

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: angst, fluff, ex to lovers (?) cheating if you squint really REALLY hard.

Song inspiration: Deja Vu by Olivia Rodrigo

AN: TDS3 D3 Jeno went topless and it was a sign for me to finish this fic.

Also this is part two of this fic. Read it so that you can have more context, but this can still serve as a stand-alone.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“So, where is this ride going?” you asked.

“If I told you, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Jeno replied. A smile plastered on his lips as he took a quick glance at you before focusing on the road.

It was five in the afternoon. The sun’s slowly setting, and the sky’s painted in its godly gold. It’s bright and warm, as the sun’s shine passed through the window of Jeno’s Ford Mustang. You just finished your last exam for the semester. After nights of cramming and chugging down coffee, you’re finally free from the semester. Vacation is just around the corner, and what’s the perfect thing to celebrate the end of semester other than celebrating it with your boyfriend?

You watched as Jeno drove smoothly across town, going down the coastal area where the sunset’s more pleasing to watch. You slide across the bridge and the next thing you know, the sun’s following you through the long bay of your town’s beach.

Jeno knows how much you love the beach. It’s a safe place for you where you can get away from your university. So you two just usually hangout around the coast.

Your boyfriend parks the car near the baywalk. He quickly turns off the engine, and just like the usual thing he does, he leaves the car first and opens your car for you.

“You don’t always have to do this, you know that?”

“But I want to,” he said casually just like the way his arms wrapped around your shoulders immediately, pulling you closer to him. You only smile as he gives you a small kiss on the head.

“So, where are you taking me?” you asked once again.

Jeno only hums as he stops, that’s when your eyes widen at the shop in front of you.

“No way!” you shouted.

“They just opened yesterday, so why not celebrate with a cup of yoghurt?” Jeno smiled.

“Oh my god, I’ve been craving for it for so long!” you shouted.

Jeno only smiles, internally patting himself good job. He knows everything about you, and he knows how lately you’ve been obsessed with yoghurt. Whether it be a drink or served in a cup, you’ll love it somehow.

“Did I ever tell you that I love you?” you asked your boyfriend who only lets out a chuckle before stealing a kiss on you.

“I love you too bub, now come on, it’s a do-it-yourself, so get as many toppings as you want.”

When you entered the shop, you immediately separated from your boyfriend, eager to have a cup of yoghurt. Jeno watched as you grabbed a large cup before going to the yoghurt machine. He was smiling ear to ear as you moved to the topping and sauce section, picking carefully your toppings because you’re still a picky eater nevertheless.

Eventually, he joins you as he grabs a medium cup and picks some toppings that suit his taste. After weighing the cup and paying for the dessert, the two of you went out where an al fresco area can be found. You two sat at the corner, digging on the delectable treat that you two are having.

The sun is setting and you’re halfway on your cup, you could only stare at the sun. feeling overwhelmed but in a good sense. You finally finished your semester and your boyfriend brought you to a yoghurt shop. You couldn’t help but to smile. Things are better and you just feel so lucky to be here right now.

“Having deep thoughts again?” Jeno asked, knowing that you tend to space out sometimes.

“No, no deep thoughts,” you told him. “Just happy right now.”

“Oh really?” Jeno teases, “can I ask why?”

You only smiled, “of course because school’s over, and I have my handsome boyfriend treat me my favorite dessert at the moment.”

Jeno only smiled, gazing at you lovingly. He wonders if days are going to be like this. He likes this life of his. In this town where it’s just you and him, in a small yoghurt shop, with the sun setting on the background.

And as Jeno stares at you, he couldn’t help but be in awe. Thinking how lucky he is to have a girlfriend like you.

Your attention shifted to him, making him stare at you even more lovingly.

“Jeno,” you called out.

“What?”

“You’re spacing out,”

“What makes you think of that, yn?”

“Yn?”

Jeno’s eyes widened.

“Who’s yn?”

The girl in front of him is not you. Her hair is in a different shade, falling along her shoulders, unlike yours who you usually tie in a messy ponytail whenever you’re eating something. She’s pretty, definitely pretty that it can make anyone turn their head.

They stared at each other for a minute. That’s when Jeno realised that your name slipped onto his lips.

Fuck. He thought. That’s when he remembered. It’s been months ever since you two broke up. Months after that night that was full of frustrations and arguments. Jeno barely recalled what you two argued about but he knew that you were crying and instead of comforting you, he stormed out of your place.

You two didn’t break up that night officially, you called it quits over a text three days later. Instead of calling you, Jeno lets it be. Thinking that you two were just never meant to be.

Unlike you, Jeno found it easy to get over you. He’s a charming guy, so it was quick for him to find another girl that he can love again.

Or so he thought. Because as he stared at the girl in front of him, he couldn’t believe that he called her by your name.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, sorry,” he quickly apologised. Shifting his attention to the melted yoghurt on his cup.

Maybe it was his fault. For bringing her to the places you two went. Jeno knows that there are a lot of places where he can bring her, but why does he always end up in the coastal area? On a particular yoghurt shop that you love?

Jeno couldn’t help but to question it. He thought that he’s over you but it seems like the ghost of you still keeps on haunting him.

You who’s always cheery. You who always have a certain sweet treat every semester. You who loves bringing your polaroid camera and taking photos of the people you hang out with.

You, who was there for Jeno. Who loved him despite his flaws and even though he is lacking in some parts, you ignored it and loved him nevertheless.

He wasn’t perfect, but you weren’t looking for a perfect boyfriend. You love Lee Jeno no matter what. And you always say that to him.

“Hey Jen, I’m done here, should we get going now?” Jeno snapped out once again when she spoke out again.

He stares at his yoghurt. It’s all melted and doesn’t look appetising at all. He then glances at the sun and it’s barely touching the sea. If it was you who’s with him, you two will wait until the sun sets and set out when the stars are in the sky.

But you’re not with him anymore, and he’s with a new girl. Who’s pretty, who’s nice, and is exactly his ideal type. Jeno had accepted it, after all. It’s not only him who’s moving on. He knows that Mark Lee’s making a move on you. He watched as you laughed with him over a cup of coffee a few weeks earlier.

So it seems like you two are moving on. Good for you. He thought. You deserve someone better than him. While he knows that there are no other girls that can surpass you, Jeno hopes that at least for his side, he can be a better man for his new girl.

The ride home was nothing but an awkward tense. Jeno keeps on glancing at her, who’s too busy on her phone. If it was you, your eyes would linger on the view outside — even though you’ve grown up in this area, you always love staring at the view. But at some time, you’ll shift your gaze at Jeno, who’ll reciprocate your giggles with a soft chuckle. His free hand lacing around your fingers, never letting you go until you reached your place.

“Watch out!” and luckily, Jeno stepped on the brake quickly. His eyes staring at the dog that just passed by.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t —”

“No, of course not! The dog suddenly jumped out of nowhere,” she said in a soft tone, smiling as she pats Jeno’s shoulders. “You prevented it too, and there’s no accident that happened, so it’s okay.”

Jeno could only let out a sigh. Somehow, he feels like blaming himself because of the incident, if it wasn’t him thinking about you, then maybe he’ll be more concentrated on his drive. He tried to focus on the road, but you’re in his mind no matter how hard he tries to shake the thought of you.

He didn’t notice that he just reached her place. It was as if he was driving out of instincts.

“Thanks for dropping me off,” she said, smiling.

“No worries,” Jeno only said, and before she left, she gave Jeno a soft kiss on the cheeks. Jeno watches as she gets out of the car, walks through her apartment and closes the door.

But Jeno couldn’t move from his seat. He doesn’t know what to do. Frustrated, Jeno lets out a sigh as he rests his head on the headboard. He doesn’t want to fuck up. He already ruined your relationship, he couldn’t bear to ruin another one too.

“I’m so stupid,” Jeno whispered. He opens his eyes and looks at the road. He knows that deep inside, he’s not yet ready to enter another relationship. It’s too soon.

Not when you spent three years together, and broke up abruptly. Throwing everything you two had. Never had a decent closure or even a proper apology from each other because of what happened that night. No. The only thing Jeno wants more is to find closure from you, and perhaps, in the better light,

you two can finally move on and find someone better.

Jeno knows that partly, it’s his fault that things went downhill. So it's up to him to fix everything. He turned on the engine, and without any hesitation, drove to a familiar route that he memorised by heart. It was a gamble, but Jeno was willing to see the outcome of his indecisive decisions.

As he reached your place, Jeno didn’t hesitate to turn off his engine, leaving his car as soon as possible.

He walks towards your apartment, a sense of familiarity welcomed him. It felt like home and Jeno tries to brush off that feeling — that odd sense of missing a place that has been a home for him for years.

Jeno stops in front of your door. He lets out a deep sigh before knocking on the door. For a minute, no one answered.

He knocks once more. Two, three, four loud knocks, in hopes that it can be enough for you to open the door.

But within a minute, no one answered. Jeno took it as a sign. That maybe closure isn’t for you two. Jeno tried to ease his beating heart — he didn’t even notice that it had been beating abnormally ever since he arrived at your place.

So he turned his heels around, walking a few steps when he heard the door open.

“Jeno? What are you doing here?”

As he turned around, Jeno was shunned.

There you are, with your hair in a mess, wearing your favourite cinnamoroll-patterned pajamas. He saw how your round eyes became wider as he made eye contact with you — both yearning for something.

“I…I —” Jeno decided to go near you. “I just, want to ask you how you have been.”

That was stupid. That was so fucking stupid. Jeno’s mind was barely functioning when those words slipped out of his mouth.

But you didn’t take it into something. You were just surprised. Jeno’s in front of you. The sense of familiarity to the man in front of you is still there. His scent, presence, and the feelings you had for him. It’s all still there.

And you don’t know why, but maybe you just wanted to see if he still loves you.

Because instead of answering him, you grabbed him by the neck and smashed your lips onto his.

But in a quick second, you realised that what you did was stupid. You broke out of the kiss, and yet your hand remains on his.

Jeno’s gaze shifted from a surprised one to something more familiar. Lovingly. You knew that stare, you’ve always loved that stare of his. You know that because you’re the only one who he gave that gaze with.

And the next thing you knew, his lips crashed onto yours. You couldn’t help but to kiss him back with more intensity. His arms instinctively hold your waist as you attempt to balance yourself. He pushes you backward, making you two enter your apartment without breaking the kiss.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct jeno #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream imagines #nct jeno imagines #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno fic #lee jeno fic #nct dream jeno fic #nct jeno fic

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bigcats-birds-and-books · 10 months ago

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"Pandora, Worrying About What She Is Doing, Finds a Way into the Valley through the Scrub Oak," from Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin

Look how messy this wilderness is. Look at this scrub oak, chaparro, the chaparral was named for it and consists of it mixed up with a lot of other things, but look at this shrub of it right here now. The tallest limb or stem is about four feet tall, but most of the stems are only a foot or two. One of them looks as if it had been cut off with a tool, a clean slice across, but who? what for? This shrub isn’t good for anything and this ridge isn’t on the way to anywhere. A lot of smaller branch-ends look broken or bitten off. Maybe deer browse the leafbuds. The little grey branches and twigs grow every which way, many dead and lichened, crossing each other, choking each other out. Digger-pine needles, spiders’ threads, dead bay leaves are stuck in the branches. It’s a mess. It’s littered. It has no overall shape. Most of the stems come up from one area, but not all; there’s no center and no symmetry. A lot of sticks sticking up out of the ground a little ways with leaves on some of them—that describes it fairly well. The leaves themselves show some order, they seem to obey some laws, poorly. They are all different sizes from about a quarter of an inch to an inch long, but each is enough like the others that one could generalise an ideal scrub-oak leaf: a dusty, medium dark-green color, with a slight convex curve to the leaf, which pillows up a bit between the veins that run slanting outward from the central vein; and the edge is irregularly serrated, with a little spine at each apex. These leaves grow irregularly spaced on alternate sides of their twig up to the top, where they crowd into a bunch, a sloppy rosette. Under the litter of dead leaves, its own and others’, and moss and rocks and mold and junk, the shrub must have a more or less shrub-shaped complex of roots, going fairly deep, probably deeper than it stands aboveground, because wet as it is here now in February, it will be bone dry on this ridge in summer.

There are no acorns left from last fall, if this shrub is old enough to have borne them. It probably is. It could be two years old or twenty or who knows? It is an oak, but a scrub oak, a low oak, a no-account oak, and there are at least a hundred very much like it in sight from this rock I am sitting on, and there are hundreds and thousands and hundreds of thousands more on this ridge and the next ridge, but numbers are wrong. They are in error. You don’t count scrub oaks. When you can count them, something has gone wrong. You can count how many in a hundred square yards and multiply, if you’re a botanist, and so make a good estimate, a fair guess, but you cannot count the scrub oaks on this ridge, let alone the ceanothus, buckbrush, or wild lilac, which I have not mentioned, and the other variously messy and humble components of the chaparral. The chaparral is like atoms and the components of atoms: it evades. It is innumerable. It is not accidentally but essentially messy. This shrub is not beautiful, nor even if I were ten feet high on hashish would it be mystical, nor is it nauseating; if a philosopher found it so, that would be his problem, but nothing to do with the scrub oak. This thing is nothing to do with us. This thing is wilderness. The civilized human mind’s relation to it is imprecise, fortuitous, and full of risk. There are no shortcuts. All the analogies run one direction, our direction. There is a hideous little tumor in one branch. The new leaves, this year’s growth, are so large and symmetrical compared with the older leaves that I took them at first for part of another plant, a toyon growing in with the dwarf oak, but a summer’s dry heat no doubt will shrink them down and warp them. Analogies are easy; the live oak, the humble evergreen, can certainly be made into a sermon, just as it can be made into firewood. Read or burnt. Sermo, I read; I read scrub oak. But I don’t, and it isn’t here to be read, or burnt. It is casting a shadow across the page of this notebook in the weak sunshine of three-thirty of a February afternoon in Northern California. When I close the book and go, the shadow will not be on the page, though I have drawn a line around it; only the pencil line will be on the page. The shadow will be then on the dead-leaf-thick messy ground or on the mossy rock my ass is on now, and the shadow will move lawfully and with great majesty as the earth turns.

The mind can imagine that shadow of a few leaves falling in the wilderness; the mind is a wonderful thing. But what about all the shadows of all the other leaves on all the other branches on all the other scrub oaks on all the other ridges of all the wilderness? If you could imagine those for even a moment, what good would it do? Infinite good.

-- Ursula K. Le Guin, Always Coming Home (273-5)

#did YOU know there's a 4096-character limit on a text block?? i sure as hell didn't #(this is uh. 4725 characters. in one block. in the book)#text #quote #le guin posting #scrub oak #always coming home #ursula k. le guin #this is i think my FAVORITE section in the whole book #i took some liberties with breaking the text block because of the character limit #but i just broke it where my page breaks were (basically. the “there” before the acorns sentence was on page 273 all by its lonesome)#i couldn't figure out what parts to pull out of this passage to quote so i did in fact type the whole thing up #yeah fuck it i'm posting this now and reblogging it in daylight i think

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amerricanartwork · 1 year ago

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RW Headcanon: Know the Difference! | An Overview of Quetzalli's Slugcats

Here’s a headcanon I’ve wanted to elaborate on for a while, and today I finally felt compelled to make it real! Also, just a disclaimer I am not a huge biology nerd nor have I studied it that heavily, so I apologize if something here doesn’t make sense or if I get something wrong. I just like fantasy worldbuilding from time to time, and I always like trying to make sense of things I’m interested in!

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Basically, I’m in the crowd that interprets slugcats as mustelids rather than literal slugs. When I say this, however I don’t mean that slugcats would necessarily be classified in the actual mustelidae family, seeing as Rain World’s world is most-likely not Earth and therefore our taxonomic classifications and phylogenetic relations can’t necessarily apply. Thus, when I call them “mustelids”, I really just mean that I imagine them as some kind of weasel with all the necessary physical traits to earn that general label.

The first half of the name “slugcat”, in my headcanon, is thus not referring to any literal connection to slugs or other mollusks, but is instead derived simply from their appearance. Due to their long ears and thick tail, and because their fur and fat often squishes together in such a way that it makes their features blend together and their bodies appear more smooth (it’s the same physics as that whole “cats are liquid” idea), the general silhouette of a slugcat can easily be likened to that of a literal slug. The second half of their name is also not literal, and instead refers to their jumping and acrobatic abilities and their skill in hunting and pouncing on small prey, which is very similar to that of small cats.

Species Overview

Now to give a little more detail on slugcats themselves as a species! I headcanon them as small to medium-sized mammals most similar to Earth weasels in both their biology and their ecological niche, who originally served as cute low-maintenance pets for the Ancients and as hunters of small pests in facilities on the ground. They’re clever by nature and good at fitting through tight spaces, and later on they evolved greater jumping abilities to pounce on prey. They’re also very social creatures, who’ve taken to forming medium to large colonies primarily in and around the massive trees that thrive between the cracks in iterators’ rainstorm areas (like the one Gourmand, Survivor, and Monk’s colony lives in). Due to this social nature they also generally travel in groups of at least two, both for company and protection against tougher animals. Travel partners are usually siblings or good friends, and sometimes even whole families will journey out together to find food and other resources for the rest of the colony.

Despite being a small prey animal, slugcats have managed to get by not only due to their intelligence — the evolution of which would be seen as a rather unexpected twist of events if you asked their creators, for the Ancients found them cute but rather simple — but because of their impressive adaptability. It’s similar to that of real life red foxes and pigeons, and it allows them to survive decently well even in less ideal environments; a trait especially necessary for a world as industrialized as this one, even if its people are gone and most of the machinery is inactive. As such not all colonies live in trees; some find homes in the abandoned facilities, large underground hollows, and a few bold colonies have even claimed territories high up in iterator cities alongside scavengers. Slugcats are opportunists and masters at making the best of their surroundings, yet even beyond that they carry a certain other, “special” ability of their own that makes them as diverse as they are clever. But that’s a headcanon for another day…

Reasoning

Now for some out-of-universe explanation for this classification choice. I’ve always seen slugcats as some kind of small scurrying mammal (kind of a bias on my part, I just like mammals honestly, and they’re most familiar to me), mainly due to the way they look and move when on all fours, and their place in the game’s food chain. Originally though I saw them as rodents and compared them to mice and rats, which I still sometimes use for anatomy reference for these creatures. But one day a friend of mine saw me drawing slugcats and thought they were weird ferrets, and the more I thought about it and the more I developed personal speculative biology headcanons for slugcats, the more that label seemed the most fitting for them. It was also solidified when I did a bit more research and realized the main characteristic of rodents is their buck teeth, which just didn’t seem to fit with how I perceived slugcats. Not to mention rodents aren’t really predator animals, and slugcats’ implied natural diet and the gameplay itself does strongly imply if not confirm they have some instinctive hunting ability.

Thus, it seemed “weasel” was the best classification for these creatures, and I quite like it so far! Once again it satisfies my mammal preference, but I also just think it’s a fun idea that neither part of the “slugcat” name is literal, similar to a lot of real-life creatures named after completely different animals, including fellow weasel, the polecat. Plus, I realized recently it’s kind of ironic with how I perceive the messenger slugcats, Hunter and Spearmaster, as being like hunting or guard dogs for their creators, when weasels are exactly the kind of animal humans with their dogs would normally hunt for! It’s cute, it’s familiar, it’s fun, yet I think it still has just as much potential for some interesting speculative biology ideas as the literal slug slugcat interpretations!

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I'm so glad to finally get this out! I like seeing specbio slugcat headcanons in the RW fandom, yet I haven't seen many more in-depth takes from artists who don't take the "slugcats are literal slugs/mollusks/primarily mollusk-based" angle. Not that that's a bad headcanon of course; do what you think feels right! But once again I personally prefer slugcats being mammals, and I always look for fan-content that's as close to my personal preferences as possible. And when I can't find enough of it, I make it myself!

So hopefully this serves as a bit more of that kind of representation for the mustelid slugcat interpretation. It at least helped me develop my own idea of the species a bit more; much of that stuff in the overview part was ideas I came up with while typing this whole headcanon out!

As always, I hope you enjoy this headcanon of mine! I've still got so many ideas to develop and share, and even more coming as I continue to ponder these characters and their stories, so as long as you guys still like these Rain World headcanons of mine, they'll keep coming!

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cartoonistcoop · 8 months ago

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ShortBox Comics Member Interview: Jona Li

Throughout the month of October, the Cartoonist Cooperative will be sharing interviews with members of the Co-op who have a new comic available at the ShortBox Comics Fair 2024!

NOTE: The Cartoonist Cooperative is not affiliated, associated, authorized, endorsed by, or in any way formally connected with ShortBox.

Today’s spotlight is Jona Li and their new comic for ShortBox, Rewired

We’d love it if you could introduce yourself and tell us about your background in comics.

Jona Li: Hello! I’m Jona and I’m a comics artist based in Tkaronto. I’m an animation school grad so I was originally working in the animation industry before I decided to do comics full-time, which was possible largely thanks to an arts grant I got from the Canadian government. I’ve always drawn short comic strips and one-pagers in my free time, and comics have always been my go-to medium for storytelling. My first real foray into comics was exhibited at ShortBox Comics Fair 2022, and since then I’ve done a couple of other short comics for anthologies and zines organized by friends. Even though my professional background is largely in animation, the comics medium is still something that has stayed a passion of mine, both with consuming and making them. I’m excited to continue to possibly make comics full-time.

Tell us more about your new comic?

JL: My new comic Rewired is a speculative short using surface-level sci-fi elements to tell an interpersonal story about someone who’s willing to change anything about themselves for someone they love. I guess it’s an inherent tragedy where you know it won’t go great either way–you can’t really change who you are without consequences and you can’t fully understand another person enough to fully cater yourself to them. The MC thinks interpersonal relationships and romance can be solved like a math equation, but the worst and best thing about people and relationships is that it’s unpredictable and indefinite. In many ways, it’s also an allegory for neurodivergence–wouldn’t it be great to simply program yourself to behave a certain way so others will like you more? That’s kind of what I was trying to do with this comic.

Tell us about your creative process; how did you develop this comic and what are the steps you took to bring it to the final stage?

JL: I had a lot of trouble at first coming up with a short and concise idea for something that’s ideally just twenty-ish pages long. At first I tried out a more lighthearted, comedic short about two friends reconnecting and having a blossoming romance while trying to give a burial to a dead cat they found. I guess I never grasped the characters enough for that one, so I looked around for other inspiration.

I really like the concept of mundanity mixed in with the fantastical, something like Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou, where an android girl runs a café in a post-apocalyptic setting. That was kind of the blueprint for the comic I have now. From there, I wrote out the general beats for how I want the story to go, and then I wrote the script and did my thumbnails.

This was actually the first time I ever had a proper thumbnail stage while doing a comic, the last few comics I did were purely just me making it up as I go…in the end I still changed a lot from my thumbs to the final sketch. Then I decided on the general look of the comic, which is what you see now!

Read the rest of the interview HERE! And dont forget to check out the Shortbox Comics Fair to support these lovely creators!!

#comic artist #comic art #comics #cartoonist cooperative #cartoonist #comic books #comic recommendations #shortbox comics fair #sbcf2024

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/746553097204203521/the-fandom-hates-women-response-to-lack-of-ff

The "fandom hates women" part of it comes from the fact that fandom as an entity just doesn't watch the kind of media that draws femslash, even if it ticks all of the boxes of things those very same people say they like. There are so many times I've watched a show that I've seen mega-popular Tumblr posts wishing existed, and then the fandom is so, so small comparatively and often in general. There have been superheroes, vampire/supernatural shows, fantasy shows, movies, books, the list goes on, that feel like they were generated out of Tumblr's desires for ideal fandom media, and everyone knows they're never going to attract anywhere near the same attention for fandom and fanworks because the common denominator just tends to be that if there isn't a full ensemble of attractive men to ship either with each other or with the women, fandom's not interested.

So it's not about prioritizing women in that sense, it's about people witnessing hypocrisy over and over again the second a show doesn't have a mostly-male ensemble. The people who are in these fandoms are frustrated that good faith attempts to get people interested are met with every excuse in the book that all eventually boils down to "I don't like watching stuff with women in it as much as I like watching stuff with men in it." And if that's how people feel about it... sometimes the conclusions are going to turn into the more uncharitable take of "fandom hates women."

Maybe, but whenever I see a "fandom hates women" reblog of my stuff, one or two reblogs further down the chain I get an overt TERF. I just had to go block several people today, in fact.

The first person to reblog with a comment like that is usually subtle, but their friends and friends of friends are not. The rhetoric that very quickly starts is the fandom equivalent of that "All the butches are becoming trans men! We're losing lesbians!" stuff.

Here's the thing: I've been in ten billion fandoms that were so awesome and fit fandom's supposed tastes to a T and yet no amount of promoting them could get anyone to try the canon. This goes for canons that are all men or all white men or all majority ethnicity men or whatever else.

The default state of media is to not engender a big fic fandom.

I agree that the rare outliers mostly follow certain patterns, but we extrapolate too far when we say that a lack of those patterns is why a fandom is small.

A fandom is small because that's the near-universal default.

Yes, a small slice of fandom consists of guilt-ridden queer fujoshi who say they want more f/f but don't make much of a move to make that happen. I tend to run into that a lot because of my own tastes and having friends who share those tastes.

Far more of fandom is people talking generally about how representation matters without saying they would personally join these fandoms if they existed.

Neither group is large enough to be the real reason some woman-heavy canon fails to take off to HP levels.

The real reason is not hypocrisy but the fact that most things don't take off like that. Most things without massive, massive audiences especially don't take off like that. And the very few things that do are flukes and don't actually predict that another similar thing will take off in the future.

Go to AO3's tag search. Search for all canonical fandom tags. Sort by uses and descending order.

Right now, I get 64,390 tags.

The first page, 50 tags, goes from HP with 497,845 works to the Thor movies with 59,266 works. By page 6, we're below 10 thousand works.

By the end of page 10, we're down to Labyrinth with 3,906.

Somewhere in the top 500 AO3 fandom tags (many of which are just franchise metatags for each other), we go all the way from megafandoms to medium size and down to relatively modest ones.

That's not a lot of room for a big f/f-heavy fandom given the trends in mainstream media and that mainstream media is where most really big fandoms come from.

I also notice that you're conflating a lack of desire to watch something that's primarily about women with a lack of desire to watch something that includes women.

There are tons of fans who want something more like The Mummy with a leading man and leading woman they love.

Granted, that's not me and that's not a lot of my fujoshi/slasher audience, but it's extraordinarily common. I know plenty of people who don't like canons that are only dudes, but since they also don't like canons that are only ladies and they don't ship f/f, this gets spun into "fandom hates women".

Let me be clear:

Conflating "lesbians" and "women" is a radfem position.

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tanadrin · 5 months ago

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There’s an interesting tension in complaints about capitalism or executive meddling for marketability purposes ruining tv and film, just because they are two of the most capital-intensive art forms ever devised. You can write a novel for the cost of pen and paper, or more realistically these days a cheap netbook. Painting or sculpture or other static visual media can be more expensive, but the initial capital outlay is like hundreds of bucks, or if you really need particular tools, thousands.

Meanwhile a film on a hilariously small shoestring budget can run tens of thousands of dollars—you gotta pay for actors and equipment rental and stuff. And more ambitious projects basically require the backing of large production companies, who—if they do not concern themselves with marketability—may rapidly cease to be large production companies.

And on top of all this, the scale of such productions means they are inherently collaborative in nature. That’s been true of performance arts for centuries, of course, but when a key element of your production is the Money Guy, it makes sense he has to worry about his ability to be the Money Guy on similar projects in the future. And given the vagaries of show business, and that there are way more consistent ways to make money, I don’t think there are many people in the business of film or TV or for that matter theater production who don’t care about the medium to some degree.

And in some ways capitalism is the ideal system to produce big film and TV productions in, at least for the would be auteur. If capital is allocated solely by private whim, you just need to get one loaded producer on your side to realize your vision—you don’t necessarily need to justify the existence of your art to a philistine public, or to bean-counting government bureaucrats, or to the people who process grant applications at arts funding councils.

Still, loaded producers are in limited supply, and it’s much easier to get their attention for your non commercial vanity project if you are already famous and well respected as a director. It’s not a system optimized for producing really top notch art! But the problem of where to get the money can only be shifted around, while actors and animators and sound technicians and so on and so forth are a finite resource.

(Notably the auteur’s incentives are in many ways directly opposed to the acting and technical staff’s incentives—a world where even big name actors get paid peanuts or are replaced entirely by computers is a world that removes a lot of financial limits on an auteur’s creative vision! Of course a lot of directors and showrunners want their employees to be paid well; they recognize there is more to making TV and film than minimizing costs. But in terms of the labor economy of show business, the auteur or showrunner is management, not labor, and auteur theory is a justification of that arrangement.)

#I assume a lot of this applies to stage productions as well #my impression is that theater is cheaper than film and tv #but still can be incredibly expensive depending on how elaborate you want to go #though one advantage theater has #is that people don’t demand high levels of verisimilitude #so there is much more appetite for high concept storytelling #with minimalist production values

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red-doll-face · 7 months ago

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Snow Angel 6

Chapter 6: hostile Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader and an allusion to slut shaming. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry, arthur is a bit of a jerk on this chapter but hell make up for it WC: 4175 Hey ! Ive finally finished chapter 6! Its been through quite a bit of editing and ive read the thing to death so i figured id post it. Nothing too bad in this chapter but arthur shows that hes not always so nice and when provoked can say things that are out of pocket lol, more naive fawn response reader, and mentions of alcohol and spousal abuse but none in reference to arthur or reader. Thanks for all of the lovely kudos! enjoyyyy : ) Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur is sort of delusional omg, reader and arthur get into a little lovers spat, not too serious

You get a glimpse of how jealous Arthur can be.

You come up on the town Arthur was speaking of around 1 o’clock. West Ridge is not much to look at, the basics really. A saloon as always, a stable, a general store, a law man's office. There are lots of comings and goings, mostly out of the hotel in town and the other boarding houses. One main way directs the horses and wagons that stop here. The western side of the town is on a hill, and the other side dips downwards, wooden walkways bridge most things together to keep ladies from getting mud on their beautiful heeled boots and skirts piled high. Most of the working men stomp through the mud, especially the stable boys who smoke cigarettes outside of the large stable which Arthur stops at first. The smell of horseflesh makes your nose scrunch but Arthur has no flinch for that sort of thing.

In the stable, Arthur arranges for a cart to be fitted over Lucky and pays the boarding fee to stable Currant for a few days. He takes you around town as they fulfill his request. He has you by the waist, a big hand is your guide as he passes by the drunken cowboys, the timber mill workers, and some hunters. You've never had a man guide you the way he does, not letting you go for a second. Perhaps because of the delicate nature of your relationship. He fears you should bolt at any time if not fenced in by his arms and hands. You settle nicely in his palm, fitting the shape of his fingers to the dip of your lower back.

Your feet creak over the wooden boards that keep you off the main street. He nods to the propped door of a saloon with plenty of places to sit, some people eat meals and other sad looking men drown their sorrows in whiskey. Arthur stops at the bar, asking for two drinks, something sweet for you and two of the meals they have on the menu. You can count the number of times you’ve eaten at a saloon on one hand. And the times you’ve had a drink at one is certainly a big zero. You stare around, some men play a gambling game with cards and working girls fan themselves, waiting for customers. They don’t bother with Arthur, no doubt with you on his arm. You wait patiently at a table while Arthur retrieves and pays for what he ordered. You watch out of the dusty window at the town and its people.

So much activity makes you realize how sheltered your family was in Long Pine, a densely wooded area, lots of wild game and harsh weather conditions. Hot summers, fertile springs, and the occasional cold snap that had a week of snow falling, nowhere near as heavy as the snow where Arthur lives, nearer to the mountain which dominates the landscape. You rarely had visitors, perhaps a letter from your mother’s distant relative. A man coming to sell furs or animal feed. You had gone to town a few times but rarely to do much, buy some things you couldn’t get from home, couldn’t grow or trade. This is different from the small trading post your father usually went to to sell his wares and buy feed for the chickens. You liked going to town more but your Pa never saw the point. Arthur sets a steaming plate of roast carrots and beef in front of you, interrupting your thoughtful silence. The priciest thing on the menu. Then he has a glass of some sort of lemonade for you and whiskey for his own palate. Your 'homesteader's daughter' manners kick back in. “Thank you, Arthur,” you say over the chatter of people nearby, an appreciative smile pushes at your cheeks. He nods and looks at you, an almost surprised expression passes over his face, a genuine smile he tries to hide. This one isn't so cocky and easy.

“Course,” He responds, slowly but not apprehensively. He never takes his eyes off of you. Even when you look away to look at the piano man, or out of the window at the sunshine. You don't have any comparisons to make besides the relationship between your mother and father, stiff and very respectful. He was just a rigid man with hard set values and your mother was the same. Though you saw glimpses of their closeness, they never stared so intently at one another, enraptured by each other. Your mother was happy to mend torn shirts and your father happy to whittle figurines and polish his varmint rifle. Maybe your grandmother and your very presence stopped them from sharing such intimate moments. Or you haven't seen young love or in the case with you and Arthur, some sick 3 day whirlwind in which he has given you no other choice but to have him as your husband.

As always, he is quick to empty his plate. You are a bit more sluggish. You quite like hearing snippets of other people's conversations, the music. Patience seems to be one of those things about Arthur. He has such a grasp on it, he has no complaints, only watches like a hawk, scratches at his jaw and has his long legs spread open on his chair. Everyone seems to look over at least twice when you start to look at other people. Perhaps they noticed the gleaming pearl handled guns in his holsters or the darkened silhouette of a man sitting with a plain woman wearing pants. You sigh, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. You haven't said anything but Arthur acts as if you've told him exactly what you're thinking. A man looks over at the wrong moment and Arthur has terse and grizzly words for him.

“Hell are you lookin’ at?” The man whips his head away, intimidated by Arthur. He adjusts his hat, looking at you, deciding that whatever needed to be done was done. “Finished?” His voice is softer now and you nod. Briefly, you worried that Arthur might start something but his presence is enough to have people looking away. You both stand and he's right behind you. Crossing the road has you walking into the general store, the store keeper greets you. Arthur’s heavy footsteps cause his friendly smile to droop but he welcomes you both anyway. You smile back, taking a look around. Arthur has his hands on his belt following you around, his spurs click and ring. The store is a humble place that stocks the essentials and some fresh produce. Everyday items line the walls and tin cans gleam in shining labels.

“Let me know if you need any help,” the storekeeper is kind and you nod, it’s only natural for you to be polite in return.

“I will, thank you,” too bad you aren't quite aware of Arthur’s possessiveness.

“If the lady needs help then she’d damn well ask for it,” His tone is dark and a strange upset to the calm exchange. You look at him, not understanding his sudden input. The store keeper sputters, offended but also entirely aware of how capable a man like Arthur looks, how inclined to violence his tone is. “Should learn to mind your own business,” his hands seem to twitch as they grip his belt, just over the rows of bullets. You grab Arthur’s forearm. Sending an apologetic smile to the clerk, you try to rush along. It's obvious that Arthur doesn't play nice with others. He tells you to pick something to eat on the road. That you might not pass any towns on the way. You nod, picking bread rolls and cheese, some fresh fruit and carrots for Lucky. Cans are also hoisted into Arthur’s arms. Strawberries and corned beef. He pays at the register, a cold look on his face. It's incredibly awkward, the air is stale with the residual unpleasantness. You thank the clerk before leaving. Outside, you look at him, a bit appalled. You should know better than to think you can correct him with any efficiency.

“What is the matter with you?”

“Not sure what you're talkin' about,” His hand on your hip is taking you to the stable. But you wrestle from his grip.

“In what world do you live in where you threaten people in passing?”

“Hey, I ain't never claimed to be a nice feller, not even a decent one,” He has that wry smile, his hands return to trying to touch you and when you stiffen and try to wiggle away again, he has a firm hold on you. “Gettin’ flighty with me, sweetheart? My little bird feel like flyin’ away?” He has a sneer on his face, a cruel smile twists his features.

“You’re threatening me now?”

“You know, you ain’t gotta go lookin' for a new man, you got one already,” he’s talking about the store keep. He’s trying to hide it but he’s afraid that you’ll just walk away with the next man. That you’re easy. Tears gather so quickly, spring forth from you. You feel like you’ll be sick. Tongue tied and disgusted with him, with yourself, you turn and walk away. You want to get on Lucky without him and ride home. He makes a frustrated gesture as you try to rush away from him, his arms tense up before he pinches the curve on the bridge of his nose. You can hear the spurs of his boots jingle as you turn away.

“Wait!” When you don’t stop, he’s in close pursuit, hurrying to catch up with you. “I said, wait, girl,” his voice is rough and panicked. He catches you and holds you between two buildings. He sees your tears. “Calm down,” he’s commanding you, making you meet his eyes. He hurriedly walks you down behind the hotel, almost no one meanders back here. You can’t wiggle from his grasp no how, your hands continue to push at his broad chest, his corded shoulders. He looks down at you with ease, trying to pull you close.

“Arthur, stop, let go,” his hand blocks the knee you were about to shove at his crotch in all of your thrashing and panic. His face before wasn't set in such a severe expression, merely worried. But now, you feel the precarity of his mood. The lines around his eyes naturally settle into this narrowed glare, like he's pulled snarls many times before, bared his teeth like a hungry brush hunter, a beast of prey.

“Honey, that’s enough now,” his words are deadly serious, so gruff and low, they slither down your spine. You still but you refuse to look at him.

“I don’t- I can’t do this. I don’t know why I thought-“

“What did I say before all this? I said you wasn't leaving me,” he’s so short sighted, his thumbs attempt to wipe your tears, to hold your face. You frown and look at him.

“Just…” you struggle with your words, troubled by the mess that is this arrangement, this tumultuous peace you try to keep with your mind and your heart. “Arthur, get off of me,” after all he’s done, this is the most emotional you’ve been with him. Even then, there is no real force behind your words. You don’t kick and scratch. All you would do is waste your energy and upset Arthur who has no qualms with holding you down.

“Listen to me,” you have a small act of defiance for him, doing your best to keep the air of disobedience but he’s quick to correct you. His forefinger and thumb grab the fat of your cheeks, guiding you to look at him. He has your back up to the wall, looking down at you; you can feel the press of his belt into you. “Gonna give you one or two chances to listen before you try my patience too many damn times,” As much as you wish you could turn away from this, you know Arthur would never let you.

“Just say what it is you mean about me, that I-I’d walk away with any man so much as looked at me,” you left some of it unsaid but Arthur knows what you mean, the word that he keeps saying in pseudo reference of you but skirting around directly saying it about you. Your voice is meek, whiny. But you don’t care.

“Can’t say something that ain’t true,”

“What are you so afraid of, then? Is this how you treated that woman?” At the mention of his other girl he winces, like the last thing he wants is to think of her. His eyes pinch shut, his hand is on your hip, as if to comfort himself. He tries to calm down, as he commanded you to do as well. He looks away, adjusting his stance. Stalling before he has to tell you what bothers him so.

“Other nobodies sniffing around my woman don’t exactly put me at ease,”

“He is trying to sell to me, not- do whatever you want with me,” you’re exasperated, unable to see how Arthur could be so threatened by other men when he looks the way he does; over six feet of him and well over two hundred and fifty pounds of musculature and fat keeping him strong looking. You're sure he could lift any man and throw him through a window. No man in his right mind would try and take anything from Arthur after having seen him.

“You don’t know what men are like,” he chuckles but with little humor. Your mind rushes to excuse him; he’s only trying to protect you.

“I know what you’re like,” you murmur, close to him, accepting him as you soften to his advances.

“And what did I do when I saw you smile at me, talking all sweet, your please and thank you’s, hm?” He hums to emphasize his question, bowing to trap you against the wall and tuck his kisses onto your neck. You sigh and grab at the back of his hair, the longer strands are softer than you thought. “Stripped you naked and put you on my bed. You were such a good girl, sweetheart,” his hands grip you tight, up your waist and suggestively skimming over your breasts cupped behind your undergarments, all the way to your neck and jaw.

“Arthur Morgan, you are a jealous man,” you huff up at him. He scoffs and cups your face, gentle over the leather riding gloves he wears.

“Don’t try and find out just how jealous,” he dips down to kiss you, a soft one, like he’s never kissed you before. Everything he hasn’t said to you, you think, he tries to put in this kiss. His whiskers tickle your lips, tilting to touch as much of you as possible. Keeping yourself upright isn't so hard, leaning against the wood of the building. He ignores any discomfort he gets from kissing you like this, but you acquiesce, trying to put yourself on your tiptoes. It's hardly any help. You part and he has one big hand sweeping your hair back.

You follow him back to the stable, most of the things you and he needed from Lucky and Currant’s saddle had been removed, put into the cart behind you where you sit as Arthur’s passenger. He keeps looking at you but saying nothing. He nods at the stable master as he opens the door and lets you both out onto the main road and then onto the road that goes to Long Pine. You sigh, the sun still quite high in the sky. You don’t have a hat, you left your home with a woolen scarf wrapped around your head. Instead, Arthur plops his hat down on your head, far too big for you. You shake your head, letting him have his way.

You think of what should happen when you get there, what your family would say. You can’t stop letting it come back to you, the anxiety of your father seeing you on a wagon with a man who you will say saved your life. It circles around like a scavenging bird to a carcass. But for now you try to distract yourself with the scenery of the ride.

The chill comes back as you have to cross back over to the wintry depths of elevation to make your way back to Long Pine. You missed the brief warmth of dipping into the river valley. Arthur is an expert at steering the cart up some pretty rough trails. He’s slow when he needs to be and lets Lucky move at his own pace sometimes. He seems to be just as anxious, he hasn’t said anything; grips the reins so tight that it squeaks against the leather of his gloves. You rummage through the things in the back and Arthur watches curiously. You pull a cigarette out of the pack that you know he brought. You struggle to light the match you need with your fingers starting to get stiff from the cold but Arthur grabs it and strikes it against the wood of the cart. He waves his fingers and you hand him the cigarette. He has it between his lips when he lights it, waving the match against the frosted air.

“Go get your coat on,” he tosses the match easily, slowing the cart down so you can pull on his ram skin coat and he can put his own coat over his shoulders. “Said you didn’t like the smell of these,”

“My father smokes his pipe all the time. You’ve been antsy since I told you I didn’t like them,” he takes luxurious puffs, relishing in the relaxation they bring him. You usually tell your Pa to go outside but you always end up opening the window and staying in your room.

“Know just what your man needs,” he has that self-satisfied smile, slouching down and holding his cigarette. He has the courtesy to at least blow the smoke away from you. You’re getting much closer to the familiar paths and small trails that lead up to your home but you know you still have quite a few hours to go. He was right, you’d have to stop, daylight would be fading soon. Arthur has mostly driven quietly. Looking at you in his hat and giving you his smug little face. “This horse ain’t so bad,” he says quietly over the crunch of the cart over the dirt and light snow that dusts over the forest and rocks.

“He’s the perfect man,” he huffs.

“How come you don’t already have a wife?” You ask Arthur. He exhales as if you told a half funny joke. You look at him. He’s staring straight ahead, as if minding the empty road.

“Only woman I asked to be with me said no. Or at least her daddy did,”

“I don’t get the privilege of a choice?” He’s quiet for a while.

“I ain’t letting this go sideways, it's okay with me if you don’t get it, if you don’t like it. Guess I never had the proper chance to do right by a woman,”

“You think you’re doing right by me?” He heaves an exasperated sigh. He likes to float nicely with you, living in the moments of time where you aren’t questioning his actions, when he gets to feel as if he hadn’t given you an ultimatum. Marry him and keep the honor your family thinks you have or marry him while your father and mother think you a harlot.

“I am right now, aren’t I? Lettin' you see your folks, go and get what precious little you have to your name?” He gives you a bit of a harsh look. “Could'a chained you to my bed but even I ain’t that sick, could’a really treated you like nothin’ but a whore,” His words stun you into a silent gap. You’re surprised there’s a step more severe than what he’s already committed but it’s true. Arthur comes to a stop and surveys what looks like somewhere to camp for the night while you sit, weighing his words in your mind.

“Did you- did you think about that?”

“If that’s what I wanted then that’s where you’d be,” he says, jumping down and helping you off the cart. You’re reluctant to take his hand but put yourself in his arms anyway as he places you on the ground. “We’re camping here tonight, I’ll get a fire goin’,” you help him unload some of his supplies, a basic canvas tent and bedroll with a blanket. He’s got a bit of firewood lit while he adds some tinder. Arthur is meticulous, every bit an outdoors man. Dutiful and attentive, he’s built a small fire, crouching by the area where he dusted the snow away. You don’t want to sit on the cold ground so you squat as best you can, trying to keep your balance. Now that it isn't so bright, you pass Arthur his hat. You arrange your provisions, making something of a cheese roll and placing the can of beef over by the fire to warm it up a little. You give him his allotted portion and eat quietly with him, the fire quickly burning through its fuel. Arthur had pulled the wagon down to a nice clearing, only some light snow, mostly bare ground. Grass would sprout soon for the spring, bringing all kinds of grazers. The dusk pulls in fast, it’s already completely dark. You listen as Lucky jingles around in his tack, not so used to being tied to a cart. He could survive one night but tomorrow he would be grumpy. You’ll give him some carrots for breakfast to lift his spirits.

“Tell me ‘bout your pa,” he says, a command more than a question. You look up to think.

“Well, he’s a very serious man, hard working, a trapper by trade. He’s… he’s nice, always been sweet on my Ma,” you think of your father sitting by the fire in a rocking chair with your mother, how he always had time to read you a story or bring you something he found out in the wilderness. Many nights you thought he may have been robbed and left for dead or fallen off a mountain but he always came home. Your Ma would be worried sick and livid when he came through the door as if he had come back at a reasonable hour.

“Sounds like a good man,” his gloved hand rubs at his chin, over the light stubble growing there. He tilts his head down so you can only see the deep tone of his hat.

“He’s not so bad, he’ll like you if he thinks you want to take care of me. He’s always wanted me to be a married woman, not some lady of the night or a spinster,” He used to say that he had only wanted a daughter of the “marrying type”. No grifter or prostitute or even a school teacher. You think he wanted the life your mother had for you.

But even married women faced problems. Men taken over by liquor who hit their wives, men who spent every last cent on a bad hand of poker. Men who sold their wives to pay off debt. At least Arthur didn't seem the type. He didn't drink much, didn't hit you even though he could if he had wanted to; unless you considered his spankings which weren't nearly as violent as some men could be. Paltry compared to stories whispered between women in town, at trading posts.

Arthur wasn't like that. He seemed vulnerable but unwillingly so. He had shown you his journal against his better judgment. Let you peer into his thoughts, see his mind on paper. He was embarrassed but sorry that he had snapped at you. Arthur is a man of contradictions; cocky and smug yet self conscious. Hardened yet soft, rough and mean but kind and gentle. He confuses you at every turn, constantly trying to make sense of his actions.

He nods slowly, gazing at the fire and feeding it more things to burn up, trying to keep it alive. You’re sure the fire will die soon. Arthur is serious but not morose. Only thinking much too hard. You dust the crumbs away and help him finish the corned beef. He notices you stifling your yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he rolls his bedroll out within the confines of the tent.

“Where will you sleep?” Your concern for him seems to make him smile at you as you crawl within his tent.

“Gonna keep watch for a while, I’ll squeeze in there with you soon enough,” you nod and lay down. Perhaps he thinks you’ll run away if he falls asleep. You curl up under Arthur’s coat. It’s warmer than you thought. You fall asleep quickly, feeling safe with Arthur keeping watch at the fire.

i love him !!! no smut this chapter sadly… jealous arthur just messes with my head omggg hes such a weenie. need this man to yell at people for looking at me wrong 😵‍💫 also need him to grab me by the face so i can look him in his eyes… cant wait to write more! Thank you for all of the feedback, im so glad to hear you guys like my characterization of this ooc arthur and all the little situations i put reader and him in!!! im always glad to talk more about this story so drop any thots in the comments :) tysm for reading !!

#red writes #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x you #low honor arthur morgan x reader #❄️ snow angel #arthur morgan #low honor arthur morgan #tw dark content #tw dark fic #tw dubcon #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption

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